TTaT: A Whisper Away
by Timesprite
Summary: [Cable/Domino] Continued directly from A Path of Thorns events continue to unravel secrets long buried.
1. Default Chapter

A Whisper Away 1/4 Disclaimer: None of the characters mentioned in this fic belong to me. It is a sad fact that they're the property of Marvel. I'm not making any money off of this, anyway.   
  
This story is the *counts* the tenth story in the Time, Tide, and Trauma series, though this particular story arc begins with Another Old Lang Syne. Thanks for this go out to a whole mess of people, who kept me from going insane while writing this. Rated PG-13 for language and content.  
  
  
A Whisper Away  
by Timesprite   
  
  
_"It was only a bad dream..."  
  
"I was so scared."  
  
"Shhh... it's all right. Nothing will ever hurt you. Nothing-"  
  
The sun blazed hotly overhead, trickling down to her dusty hiding place and burning her skin. She pulled back as far into the shade of the looming boulders as she could, wrapping her arms around her and trying not to whimper.  
  
"Sing me one more song, Mommy?"  
  
"It's late, dear," a gentle hand brushed her hair from her forehead. "You're getting too old for lullabies."  
  
"Please just one-"  
  
The moon rose high overhead, appearing perfectly framed in the opening to her rocky shelter, filling the night sky.  
  
"Stay here, Nika. They'll find you if you leave. Whatever you do, don't-"  
  
"Don't! No!" The gunshot came from behind, the girl's body jerking violently. Blood welled up to her lips as she opened her mouth to try and breathe, then fell unmoving to the floor.  
  
"I wish there could have been-"  
  
"Daddy!"  
_   
He wasn't sure which registered first, the quiet whimpering sound Domino was making in her sleep, or the pain of her fingernails biting into his arm. "Dom?" He shook her shoulder slightly, but she only tightened her grip. He could detach her easily enough, but he was more worried about hurting her in the process. "Dom?"   
  
Violet eyes fluttered open, looking at him uncomprehendingly. Her stomach did flip-flops and she dashed to the bathroom to wretch, bile burning her throat as she hunched on the floor, leaning her head against the cool tile wall until she stopped shaking. She stood carefully and washed her face, rinsed the vile taste from her mouth before crawling back into bed. Eyes watched her in the darkness but no words broke the silence.   
  
She curled up in his arms, her head resting against his collarbone so that he could breath in the clean sent of her hair. He could feel her heart beating rapidly, like a frightened bird's, right through her skin. There was no way to explain the feeling, equal parts overwhelming awe and helplessness that made him want to tighten his grip and never let her go. Never let anything hurt her again.  
  
----  
  
"Sure you don't want me to stay? I know you don't know Moira well. I could stay if you'd be more comfortable." He kept his eyes fixed on the horizon, though the plane was on autopilot. There'd been an uncomfortable silence hanging between them all morning that he couldn't seem to break through. Dom's end of their psilink was quiet and guarded.  
  
"You've got things to take care of, and besides, it's not a big deal, Nathan. I'll be fine." She slouched in her chair, gazing out the side window at the ocean that hurtled far below.  
  
He nodded. "I'm glad you agreed to this, anyway."  
  
"Well, we couldn't very well leave things as they were, could we?" She sighed. The 'dream' was occurring more often now, several times a week, so that neither of them was getting much sleep anymore. She'd 'sat out' the last two missions X-Force had run, hardly helped Nate with the training sessions any more, and was to the point where she felt like a discarded toy on the back of a shelf, tattered and used up.   
Nathan's rather unimaginative excuse that she was on medical leave had only started up speculation amongst the kids, even if they were polite enough to keep it to themselves. The feeling that everyone was walking on eggshells around her was nothing less than aggravating, and the obnoxious protectiveness Nate had been displaying was irritating her to no end. In short, things were unraveling fast.  
  
With the exhausted air of someone who was too worn down to keep up a resistant front, she'd eventually agreed to his subtle yet constant urging to 'see someone about this.' Whether he was referring more to her mental or physical state didn't seem to matter much; either she was sick and it was affecting her mood, or her mental state was affecting her physical health.   
  
"No," he agreed. "Dom..."  
  
"I just want to get this over with, Nate. Whatever turns up, it's not worth worrying about until we know."  
  
Moira was waiting for them on the runway, wind whipping at her hair and lab coat. "Och, Nathan, tis good to see ye again." She gave him a quick hug, then stepped back. "It's been too long."  
  
"Life's... been busy, Moira," he replied.   
  
"Aye, I don't doubt it. We should move inside. It's a wee bit cold out here."  
  
----  
  
"That's about it," Domino said, running a hand back through her hair. They were assembled in Moira's office, just off the main lab facilities. "But obviously, it's not something I can exactly live with..."  
  
"Nae, that much seems obvious. I take it ye probably haven't had a physical lately?"  
  
"I'm--not fond of doctors," Domino replied tersely. "So not really, no."  
  
"Right. Well, then, I'd suggest starting with a blood workup, and possibly some brain scans as well, though I dinna think this is likely tae be anything serious as all that."  
  
Dom bit her lip. "I certainly hope not. When can we get started?"  
  
"I need a bit of time to set things up, but we should be able tae get things started shortly. If ye want to put yuir things in your room, Nathan knows the way."  
  
----  
  
"You're going to be okay?"  
  
"I'm slightly nervous," she admitted, "You know how fond I am of hospitals and crap, but I really don't see any other way. I don't want to keep living like this, Nate. Not fair to either of us." She set her bag down on the bed in the small room. She took a deep breath. "It'll be okay, I'm sure. It has to be..."  
  
"It will. We'll get this all sorted out." He wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her forehead lightly. "Don't worry."  
  
She gave him a watery smile. "I'm trying not to." She pulled away. "You should probably get going, huh?"  
  
"Yeah," he sighed. "I'll go say goodbye to Moira, I guess. I'll be back to get you in two days then. And you can call the house if--"  
  
"If anything comes up, I'll let you know."  
  
"All right," he nodded, and headed for the door. "Dom, I--"  
  
"I know Nate," she smiled faintly. "I know."  
  
----  
  
The flight back from Muir seemed to take ages, and he couldn't shake the nagging feeling that he should have stayed, at least until he was certain that everything was going well. Dom had seemed inordinately unsettled about the whole thing, though she'd done her best to keep from showing it. It was understandable, he supposed. They spent their whole lives living on the edge, walking the fine line between themselves and disaster. And while he'd had to come to terms with his own illness over the years--the T-O virus was not something one easily ignored, he could see how the possibility would be distressing to her, especially given that, as a side effect of her powers, he supposed, she was rarely ill at all.  
He had his own suspicions as well, fragments he'd been slowly pulling together since her breakdown at Christmas, her admission that *something* had happened to her that was at least a contributing factor to what she was going through now. Somehow, he had a feeling it was a lot more of an issue than she was going to admit, and the fact that she adamantly refused to give him even the barest of details was setting off all sorts of warnings.  
  
But he had to tread lightly. He'd known Dom long enough to know when she was most liable bolt, to know when he could and could not push an issue. But working in the dark here wasn't something he wanted to do. And if she wouldn't talk to him, he had to be more underhanded about it, no matter how much he loathed the idea. Time to call in a few favors.  
  
----  
  
"Well, long time no see. To what do I owe the pleasure of this call?"  
  
"I need a favor, G.W." Cable replied. "And I need to keep it quiet."  
  
On the view screen, G.W. Bridge frowned. "Something the matter?"  
  
Cable sighed. "Yeah, though I can't really get into it. Look, you said Dom had been working down in Rio, right?"  
  
"Yeah. For a couple of months. But I thought you two had patched things up."  
  
"We did," he replied. "I think one of the missions she worked went bad. She won't talk about it. Can you try and dig up some info for me? I'd do it myself--"  
  
"But if she found out she'd kick your sorry ass. I'll let you know what I can find."  
  
"Thanks." He switched off the communications array and walked out of the room.  
  
----  
  
_"We shouldn't be doing this Fayina. Mom said not to go in her office..."  
  
"Look, that's where the pictures are. You want to see a picture of Dad, right?"  
  
She blinked at her older sister for a moment. "Mom said to call Kristian dad though."  
  
Fayina rolled her eyes. "You are so naive Nika. Kristian *isn't* Dad. But you're too little to remember any of that, so I guess I can't blame you. Come on." She swung the office door open. "She keeps them here in her desk."  
  
"_I'm_ not gonna get in trouble if Mom catches you Fay," she said, flopping down in one of the chairs in the office. "She _told_ us to stay out of here."  
  
"Quit whining. She went to the store with Kristian. They won't be back for awhile." Fayina began shuffling through the contents of the desk. "Here we go." She walked over to her sister. "See? Me an' Mom and Dad. When we were back at home, not here in this stupid desert."  
  
She took the picture from her sister and stared down at the smiling faces. Dad...  
  
"Dad! Please!" She screamed as hands caught her arms and pulled her off. Her father stood in the doorway, face expressionless. She threw a glance at her sister's prone body, laying in an expanding pool of blood. "Daddy!"  
_   
She bolted upright in bed, sucking air into her lungs. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dark room and for her brain to register where the hell she was. Muir Island. Right. She took another breath and tried to slow her heartbeat. After a few minutes, she switched on the bedside lamp and went to the bathroom, scrubbing at her face as if she could wash the dream from her mind. Dream--she laughed humorlessly to herself. Not a dream at all, just fragmented memories, her brain spewing back events at her she couldn't place.  
  
She spent the rest of the night curled up on the bed, blankets drawn around her, not sleeping. As a mercenary, she'd pretty much learned to grab sleep wherever she happened to be at the time, so it wasn't strange surroundings keeping her awake. She sighed and pounded on her pillow a bit, trying futilely to get comfortable. The problem was, she _wasn't_ comfortable. She'd spent the day being poked at and grilled with questions--maybe that was an exaggeration, but it had all been a major violation of the very strict privacy she'd built up over the years. She felt raw inside, vaguely ill. With a grimace, she got up and walked to the window.  
  
The moon was waning and half-concealed by clouds, but a few silver rays lanced down onto the ocean below. The water was turbulent, crashing forcefully against Muir's craggy coast, and she wondered if there wasn't a storm somewhere further out on the ocean.  
  
----  
  
_Sand for miles around  
  
At first he thought he was in Akkaba, but then she strode over the crest of the dune like a black spot against the sand, step-sliding her way down the wind sculpted desert waves.  
  
"It's a chain reaction," she said. There was a strength in her voice that had been lacking for months. Dressed in a tattered uniform, her face was streaked with dirt, as if she'd just walked away from a battle. "Dominos," she said, pointing to the sand at his feet. Her lips curved up in a humorless smile at the pun.  
  
All around him lay a serpentine line of the black and white tiles, standing impossibly straight in the sand. "You tap one..." The toe of her boot reached out and touched the end tile lightly and all around him the labyrinthine pattern collapsed, leaving the tiles scattered, black and white faces staring at the broad blue sky.  
The light went out in her amethyst eyes.  
  
**"...if I should die before I wake..."  
**   
"--Nathan-- Oh Nate-- it hurts..."  
  
"Don't talk Jen. It'll be--it'll be all right-"  
  
**"Ashes, Ashes, we all fall down."  
** _  
He jerked awake, book dropping from his hand with a quiet thump. He blinked, disorientated, and taking a ragged breath, sat up on the couch. He must have nodded off while reading, he thought ruefully. Still, the dream puzzled him, and the more he thought about it, the less sense it made.   
The end had been a well worn, familiar terror, Aliya's death would haunt his dreams forever. But the rest seemed foreign to him, as if...  
  
He went to the phone and dialed the number he had for Dom on Muir, letting it ring despite the lateness of the hour there. On the fifth ring, Domino picked up, voicing a shaky sounding "Hello?"  
  
"Did I wake you up?" He asked, keeping his voice light.  
  
"No... I--was awake. Is something the matter, Nathan?" She sounded more tired than she had when he'd seen her last.  
  
"Just wanted to make sure you were okay. The link... felt a little strange." He cursed himself for the lie.  
  
He heard her sigh softly. "I'm fine now. Just a nightmare," she said, her voice betraying her cool words. "I'm sorry if I--I guess I'm still not used to how much stronger the damned thing's gotten." There wasn't any hostility in her voice, though he knew she had mixed feelings as to how strong the psilink had gotten. He felt slightly guilty for that--he was still a novice telepath and Dom seemed unusually psi-sensitive for someone totally mindblind.  
  
"It's all right. I just wanted to make sure." He felt tense all of the sudden and took a deep breath to calm himself.  
  
"I'm okay, Nate," she said, her voice sounding stronger now so that he felt slightly reassured. "Thanks--for calling, anyway. I appreciate it."  
  
"Try and get some sleep. I'll see you soon."  
  
----  
  
Domino wandered into the kitchen the next morning, carefully avoiding the coffeepot as she searched the kitchen for something edible. She'd heard stories about Moira's coffee, and some of them claimed it was sentient. She decided not to risk it, even if it _was_ a probable source of caffeine, and settled on a glass of ice water and an orange from the bowl on the countertop.   
  
"Ah, there ye are," the doctor commented as she entered the kitchen several minutes later. "I was wondering when you'd be up. I've got yuir test results, if you'd like to go over them now. Or it can wait till the afternoon."   
  
Domino marveled at the other woman's energetic demeanor momentarily. From her appearance, it was obvious Moira had forgone sleep in favor, undoubtedly, of continuing her research on the Legacy virus, but she showed little sign of fatigue outside her generally rumpled appearance. _'Got to be the coffee,'_ she thought wryly. "Might as well get it over with," she sighed, smiling thinly as she gathered the remains of her orange and dropped it in the waste can.  
  
  
  
"So what's the damage?" Domino leaned back against one of the bio-beds, expression carefully neutral.   
  
"Well," the doctor said, "the good news is there doesn't seem to be any major physical cause. Aside from being a wee bit underweight, yuir in good physical condition."   
  
Domino frowned slightly. "Bad news being..."  
  
She reached over to the counter and picked up a manila folder. "I did want tae show you this," she said. "When I reviewed some of the brain scans I took, I found a small anomaly. It's old, and unlikely to be the _cause_ of anything you're experiencing now, but it may be a piece of the puzzle." She handed over the files. "I've seen physical damage like this before, as the result of psychic assaults."  
  
"But it's not causing anything."  
  
"Physically? Nae. It's old and relatively insignificant, though the fact that there's a physical manifestation at all suggests the psychic trauma inflicted was fairly severe at the time."  
  
She nodded slowly. "I knew this, I guess. Just hard to hear." She ran a hand back through her hair. "So what are our options?"   
  
Moira leaned back against the counter, apparently mulling over exactly what to say. "I'm a wee bit concerned that whatever happened to ye, if I'm correct in assuming it was psychic attack o' some sort, may have left you particularly vulnerable to other psychological trauma. My first suggestion would be for you tae speak with a telepath who'd be able to tell more about the nature of the damage. But I gather that's not high on yuir list o' things to do."  
  
"Not really, no."  
  
"The second option is for me to treat this as a case of post traumatic stress, which may very well be the underlying cause for these other symptoms." A look of momentary weariness flashed across her face. "I'd like tae prescribe a mild anti-depressant, and something to help you sleep better. But I'll warn ye now, the medication itself is nae gonna solve yuir problem Domino. Ye have to be willing to deal with the events that triggered this, even if ye just talk to Nathan. This is not something that goes away on its own."  
  
Domino closed her eyes and sighed, nodding slowly. "All right."  
  
----  
  
X-Force had come and gone again, helping to set up the communications equipment in the spare bedroom and a few other assorted tasks. He could have probably gotten it all done himself, or with Dom's help, but the kids had been fairly eager to volunteer--he had the sneaking suspicion that they wanted to scope the place out. He didn't even want to *know* about the rumors Tabitha was probably creating, he thought with a wry chuckle. He was going to miss them, that was certain. He knew they could take care of themselves, they'd certainly handled themselves well enough during the crises with Apocalypse and in the months after, when he'd been incapable of leading the team. "I'm getting maudlin," he grumbled to himself, and checked the directions on the slip of paper Dom had left for him, along with the keys to a storage locker she had rented in the area. There was furniture there, she'd said, though she also warned that it was all almost thirty years old and had come with the house. "I suppose we'll have to go shopping for real stuff eventually," she'd added, and he swore she visibly shuddered at the thought of having to do something as inanely domestic as furniture shopping. He was almost looking forward to it.  
He spent almost an hour going through the contents of the unit, loaded what he thought was redeemable into the trailer hitched to the back of his SUV, then took one last sweep on the room before he got ready to set out. Near the back, parked away in the corner and covered in a drop cloth so that he almost missed it entirely, was a black Harley-Davidson. He looked at it speculatively for a few moments, then, humming under his breath, rolled it out to the trailer.  
  
----  
  
He'd finished unpacking the majority of their possessions, what they had considering the largely nomadic lifestyle they'd both favored up to this point. There'd been something oddly ceremonial about even the smallest tasks, putting their clothes into the dresser and closet, unpacking all of the bathroom supplies, carefully arranging all their weapons in their new home, ritualistic, and oddly empty because Dom should have been there. They should have been doing this all together, arguing over who got what half of their closet or which wall the bed should go against.   
  
He could feel it coming. Like a rumbling freight train still miles off, it seemed to vibrate in his ribcage.  
He lay exhausted, alone in their bed, the sheet tangled around his waist. He'd been dreaming of Aliya again--not all nightmares--but he always woke as she died in his arms. The rumbling seemed to get closer. It filled his chest, pressing him from the inside out, making it hard to breathe.   
He was afraid.  
  
His mind was sending him a warning. 'This too, you may lose.' It had been a long time since he'd wanted anything this badly, wanted anything so simple. Domino needed something from him now. All he had to offer her was his heart, and somehow, he wasn't sure it would be enough.  
The breakdown was something that had been building for years inside of her. He'd seen it before, in the darkness that occasionally lurked at the corners of her mind. Such an enigma, a woman of simple needs and emotions so complex she locked them away from even herself.  
  
----  
  
"Someone really needs to talk to you about your timing. Do you _know_ what time it is here?"  
  
"Later than it is here. I know," he muttered. "Did you find anything?"  
  
"Yeah. She was working contracts in Rio for about six months. Then she signed on with one Jon Hirch set up, and promptly vanished entirely for the next four months. Turns out she was apparently doing under cover work."  
  
Cable swore quietly under his breath. "Who hired her?"  
  
"Oh, you're gonna love this one. Pete Wisdom."  
  
"Flonq. I thought he was working with Excalibur?"  
  
"Not anymore, apparently. Seems to have a bad track record that way."  
  
"Don't suppose you know what they were working on?"  
  
"Yeah, I do." On the screen, G.W. frowned. "You're not going to like this Nate. Seems they went after an underground slavery ring. I'll send you the details. She okay?"  
  
"I don't know, G.W., I really don't." The screen went dark, and he waited as the information G.W. had gathered scrolled off the fax machine, then gathered the documents and headed into the kitchen.  
  
----  
  
Two hours later, he found himself on hands and knees, scrubbing the hardwood floors in the living room. The papers were spread across the kitchen table where he'd left them, the information running circles in his head. Four AM and he was scrubbing floors, the hard way, the muscles in his arms and back and shoulders screaming at him, his knees protesting the abuse he was visiting upon them. Scrubbing the same places for the fourth time because he didn't know what he'd do if he stopped.   
  
The world was silent. It was just him and the house, and it seemed suddenly that the weekend they'd just spent here was years ago, that he hadn't heard the sound of Dom's voice for ages longer than the interval since his phone call. Suddenly he knew what she'd meant when she'd told him this place had haunted her. He stopped scrubbing, hunched over, one hand on the damp wood supporting his weight, the other pressed against his forehead as he took a faltering breath and the clinical details of those reports streamed through his mind, as he tried to come to terms with what it meant.  
  
He started scrubbing again. Repetitive movement forced from fatigued muscles that weren't up to the task he was demanding of them, sweat trickling down his bare back.  
Repetitive, mindless motions, sweat stinging his eyes, as he fought with the strange notion that he'd been transported forward in time, that Dom was dead and gone, swallowed up by the terror that was unraveling itself slowly in his head.  



	2. A Whisper Away 2/4

A Whisper Away 2/4 A Whisper Away  
by Timesprite   
  
The minijet was set on autopilot, retracing the route he'd taken only a few days earlier. He half-dozed, keeping an eye on the displays while trying to relax . It'd been a long drive down to San Francisco, and he hadn't gotten much sleep between then and now. There was too much spinning through his head, questions that he knew wouldn't have easy answers. He couldn't ask Dom directly--it was quite obvious she wanted him to know nothing of what he'd learned from G.W. But he couldn't ignore it either, not when it had such obvious ties to the current situation. With a sigh, he shoved away the nagging sense of powerlessness and began going over preparations for his arrival at Muir.  
  
----  
  
"The best I can do us to treat it as post traumatic stress. I gave her something to help her sleep and a mild anti-depressant. But I dinna think that's all that's going on here."   
  
"Psionic trauma." He and Moira were currently walking the halls of Muir, going over the details of what she'd found. It had been Dom's suggestion, upon his arrival, that he go talk to the doctor while she packed up her stuff. There'd been a distance in her eyes that'd left him with a vaguely apprehensive feeling.  
  
"It's outside my ability to diagnose and treat," she replied, "but aye. From what she told me it seems a likely candidate. You already had yuir suspicions?"  
  
"It's clear her memories have been tampered with, even she knows that. But she can't remember *how* it happened and the injury is--" he frowned, trying to find a way to describe it to a non-telepath. "Well, it looks old. Not something easily repaired. I'd feel more comfortable if she'd let Jean or Xavier take a look, but she doesn't trust them inside her head, and I can't really blame her for that. I don't know what to _do_, Moira." He sighed, looking out the window at the island's rugged coast.  
  
"Do the best ye can for her," she replied. "What she's going to need now more than anything is yuir support."  
  
He nodded. "At least this is a start."   
----  
  
"Ready to go?"  
  
"Yeah." She stared down at her feet for a moment. "You talked to Moira?"  
  
He nodded. "Are you doing okay? This is a lot to get a handle on."  
  
"I can deal with it," Domino replied, still not meeting his eyes. "I've always known they did _something_ to my head, I guess it's different, knowing for sure. I feel like--I have a right to be angry. But there's no one for me to blame, is there? I don't know who mind-wiped me, I don't know why. It's just something that happened." She sighed. "Let's go home."  
  
----  
  
"I've got a surprise for you," Cable said as he pulled into the driveway, unable to keep the smile off his face.  
  
"Should I be frightened?" She asked, arching an eyebrow as she got out of the car.   
  
"It's the good sort of surprise," he replied. "It's in the garage." He took her hand and tugged her gently in the direction of the building, rather like a small child eager to show off his latest find, she thought amusedly.   
  
"Okay, Nate, what's up?" She asked when they'd reached the door.  
  
"Close your eyes."  
  
"Nate--"  
  
"C'mon, Dom. Play along." He gave her his best puppy-dog look, and she sighed, but did as he asked. She heard the garage door rumble open, and Nathan lead her inside.  
  
"Can I look now?" She had to admit, she was pretty curious at this point.  
  
"Go ahead."   
  
She opened her eyes slowly, and did nothing to suppress a grin at the sight of the motorcycle parked dead center on the concrete slab. "I'd almost forgotten about this," she said, circling the bike slowly. The whole vehicle practically glowed--he'd obviously taken great care in cleaning it up. Even her helmet, parked next to the front wheel, sparkled in the sunlight from the open door.  
  
"Tuned it too," he replied, responding to her unspoken thought. "Runs like it just came from the factory." There was an undeniably pleased look on his face.  
  
"What's in the box?" She asked, eyeing the brown package perched on the seat of the Harley. Nathan's grin widened.  
  
"Open it and find out."  
  
Keeping one eye on him, she lifted the cover of the box and set it down on the floor. Inside, folded neatly, was a black leather jacket and a pair of fingerless gloves. "Nate--" She lifted the jacket from the box and slid it on. Perfect fit, not that she'd had any doubt.  
  
"Your old one was getting pretty worn out. I figured it was time for a replacement."  
  
"You bastard." She beamed at him. "Thank you. Why?"  
  
"Because you deserve it?" He pulled her into his arms. "That reason enough?" She was still smiling at him, her eyes sparkling merrily. It had been worth it, he decided, just for that smile.  
  
"I think," she replied, going up on tiptoes to kiss him, "I can live with that."  
  
"Good to know," he said. "Going to take it for a spin?"  
  
"Hell yeah," she grinned. "I owe you one, Nate."   
  
"I'm going to hold you to that."  
  
"I'm counting on it."  
  
----  
  
He leaned casually in the front doorway when she pulled back into the drive and turned off the bike. She pulled the helmet off and shook out her hair. "Been too long since I've done that," she commented, striding over to where he stood. "So..." She ran a finger along the top of his shoulder and down his arm, smiling wickedly. "Want your thank you?" She didn't wait for a reply, throwing her arms around his neck for a kiss that left spots dancing in his vision. "Dom--"  
  
"Shut up. My turn now." Without disrupting the contact of their bodies they backed into the house rather rapidly, and Cable was mildly surprised they'd managed to make it as far as the living room before he stumbled over a box. Telekinetic cushioning or no, they still made a rather loud 'thump' as they hit the floor. Not that Domino seemed to notice at all.  
She was currently in the process of removing his tee shirt, and taking her time while she was at it, he noted somewhat distractedly. She was also still wearing the leather gloves, though the jacket has been shrugged off at some point on their way through the kitchen. He inhaled sharply as her fingers skimmed below the waistband of his jeans, and the grin on her face widened. He reached up and ran his hands back through her hair, pulling her down towards him for a kiss. Then she pulled away, sitting up while still straddling his waist and pulled off her shirt before allowing herself to be pulled back down again.   
  
"If this is what a thank you is like," he murmured, toying with the strap of her bra. "remind me to give you presents more often."  
  
"Mmm... no, you have to be especially nice to get this kind of thank you."  
  
"I'll keep that in mind."  
  
----  
  
The link buzzed loudly in his skull, taut and almost painful, though Dom was out like a light and nothing short of a nuclear detonation was likely to wake her. He rubbed his face with his hands and sat up, battling with indecisiveness. He knew he shouldn't ignore the way their psilink was currently going haywire, but neither did he want to take action only to have her resent him for not asking permission later. That was the continual frustration of having a direct connection with someone who was as equally, if not *more* sensitive about privacy issues than he himself was. He could *feel* when things were wrong, but didn't dare act on them without her consent for fear of alienating her. No doubt skulking around the corners of her mind without permission was not going to be well received.  
  
He got up and sat down on the floor a few feet from the bed, taking a few deep breaths with his eyes closed to ease into a meditative calm. She'd most likely hate him in the morning for this, but there was no way he'd sleep with her mind screaming at him the way it was currently. He slipped into a partial meditation--he was sorely out of practice and didn't entirely trust his TK to hold firm and not drop him on his head mid-way through. Besides, he was only going far enough to try and sooth whatever the disruption was, not planning a full-fledged sightseeing tour of his partner's psyche.  
  
The landscape he opened his eyes to was at first almost alien in its desolation, though the time X-Force had been based at Camp Verde made it familiar; the scrubby deserts of the American Southwest. He turned in a full circle, taking in the barren land for miles around, slowly rising towards mountains to the west. The sun was setting, clouds lit in hues of pink and purple draped languidly over the distant range.  
  
Something glinted in the distance, reflecting the rays of the slowly setting sun, looming blood red and swollen in the dusky sky.  
He began walking towards it.  
  
Mirrored shards were standing upright in the sand, reflecting the landscape in a jagged cacophony, like a deranged Zen garden.   
  
"You shouldn't have come here." She appeared from nowhere, moving between the fractured mirrors, which reflected not her image as he saw it, but rather herself at various ages and points of her life, all of them battered and bruised. A hundred pairs of hollow amethyst eyes watched him.  
  
"I want to help."  
  
"There's no helping here," she said. "Look around. There's nothing for you here. Let me be."  
  
"Don't ask me to do this, Dom. You _asked_ for my help, I gave you my word." He put his hands on her shoulders. "Don't ask me to stand back and watch this tear you apart. What are you so afraid of?"  
  
"I don't want to be the one who fucks this up this time, Nate. If we go down this time, it's really over, y'know? We gave it our best damned shot and we're still coming apart at the seams."  
  
"I'm not letting you go," he said quietly. "Not now, not ever. I couldn't do that again. I know you're happy here, Dom. Buried under everything that's going on in your head now--but I can't fix that unless you let me in, and you won't do that! I'm not asking you for anything here. I just want to know what hurt you like this."  
  
"What--" She laughed suddenly. "What hurt me like this? _I_ hurt me like this, Nathan!" She ran a hand over the top of one of the mirrors and blood dripped down its face. "Every time I fought back. Every time I thought life _owed_ me something. I should have just taken the blows but I couldn't do that." She clenched her hand in a fist, blood welling from between her fingers and running down her bare forearm. "I had to think that I was worth something. So to answer your question, Nathan, I'm the one to blame, because I was too stupid to just die." Around her, the mirrors shattered, glowing red with the last of the sun's light.  
  
_**"We all--"  
**   
"Tyler!"  
  
**"--Fall--"  
**   
"I know people who can help you. _I_ can help you."  
  
**"--Down!"  
**_   
His eyes snapped open, his head spinning so badly he had to reach out a hand to support himself. His shirt was soaked with sweat, muscles cramped as he got unsteadily to his feet. This wasn't right. At some point he must have slipped from meditation to sleep, from Domino's mind to his own subconscious. First Aliya and now Tyler--but he'd made his peace with those particular ghosts. What's more, he didn't recognize the song. Which meant--he swallowed hard, pieces sliding into place as he watched Dom's sleeping form.   
  
----  
  
Sleep was thick and heavy, hard to swim through. Fragments of dreams and shattered memories clung to her with cruel fingers, unwilling to release her to wakefulness. Leaden lids opened sluggishly, surfacing from the mire, breathing heavy. Her heart thumped rapidly in her chest, as if she'd been fighting demons in her sleep.  
Shadows shifted over the pale square of the ceiling as the world outside grew lighter. Domino stared at it almost without blinking. Her entire body felt heavy, pinned down by invisible restraints she couldn't bring herself to struggle against. The world seemed a great distance from here, where she lay still, as if she could sink into the bed itself and vanish entirely. Even Nathan, lying only inches away seemed unreachable, his breathing muffled and remote.   
She let her head drop to the side, peering at his sleeping face through the veil of her hair. He looked unhappy, worried even in sleep, the corners of his mouth pulled downward, the lines of his face harsher than they had been in ages. 'This is your fault,' her mind whispered. She'd given him this weight that would not leave him. Something sharp seemed to dig into her ribs from the inside, expanding, tearing through her with a pain that came from everywhere at once. With a long sigh, she got up from the bed.  
  
----  
  
Domino closed her eyes and let the water pound down on her scalp, dripping down her face like tears, scalding her skin. She didn't really feel it, not through the layers of cotton her mind seemed wrapped in, still isolating and muffling everything around her. 'The dark is better,' a voice she hadn't paid heed to in years whispered. 'No pain. No one can touch you here.' It wasn't right, damnit! She knew better than to give in to that quiet little voice, a shadow of a person she'd once been, and had fought long and hard to be free of. 'Not hard enough,' she thought wryly, resting her forehead against the tile of the shower surround. She knew she'd screwed things up this time. Gone one step past her limits. She simply hadn't realized just how much her past still haunted her until she'd found herself staring it all down again. And she'd shut down, just as she had as a girl, letting it all spill away into some dark void without wondering when the dam would fail.  
  
The bathroom door opened. She could feel Nathan's concern on the other end of the link, even before he pulled back the shower curtain. "Dom, are you okay? This water is scalding."  
  
She turned her head to the side slightly, just enough so that she could see his face out of the corner of her eye. "I guess I didn't notice."  
  
He sighed and turned off the tap, grabbing a towel off the bar and wrapping it around her shoulders and helping her out of the shower.   
  
"I'm fine. Stop treating me like some sort of fucking invalid. I'm not sick or anything for Christ's sake."  
  
"Have you looked in the mirror, Dom?" He swung out the door of the medicine cabinet so that the mirror reflected both their faces. "Does that _look_ healthy to you?"  
  
She turned her face away, staring instead at the wall. His heart felt heavy, as if it would drop straight to the pit of his stomach and stay there, like a stone. He picked her up carefully, cradling her against his chest as if she weighed nothing at all, feeling nothing more than as if he were holding a broken doll, her head lolling listlessly against his shoulder.  
He placed her back in their bed with equal care, laying down next to her and pulling her close, holding on for all he was worth. He closed his eyes and swallowed hard, fighting past the tightness in his chest for breath. "Do you want to die?" His voice sounded strained to his own ears, distorted by the awful truth they implied. She shifted, eyes meeting his in the half-light of the early morning. "Do you, Dom?" His eyes stayed locked on hers as he fought for the control he needed. "Do you wish you were dead?" He couldn't stop the tears, not even if he'd wanted to, which he didn't really. He hurt too much to deny them. "Because you said something to me last night, or your mind did--it was a dream or a nightmare or--" He took a gasping breath. "You said you shouldn't have fought against any of this. You said you should have just let it kill you."  
  
"I--oh God. No, Nathan." She reached out and wiped the dampness from his face. "Never. I just..." She curled up tightly against him, head tucked under his chin. She pressed her hand over his heart, feeling its steady beat against her palm--so strong.   
Apocalypse had not been able to break that strength, but she almost had. She could see it in his eyes, feel it in the slight tremble that ran through him. Through skin and bones and blood and metal, in the arms that had tucked her in against his body, along all the planes where their skin touched. The weight was there again, suffocating, stifling, and bleak. "I'm just so tired. Tired of scrubbing away the blood and gore, stitching wounds and resetting bones. Tired of struggling, broken, back to my feet."  
  
He kissed the crown of her head. "I know."  
  
"I need time to sort this all out," she said. "It's a process, I know. There'll be good days, and bad ones. But after so much of the bad times, it's hard to believe anything can be good again. That anything can be _right_ again. And there's a fear here that sits in the pit of my stomach. It's the fear of losing things that I never dreamed I'd have. I never had aspirations for myself, y'know? Nothing I ever wanted to strive for. Except to live through the next day. You know how it is, I suppose. The difference here is that while you managed to find an anchor amidst the chaos, I never did. So this is all new ground for me. And I don't want to let go, but I can almost _feel_ myself being torn away.  
"I don't know how to move past it," she continued. "It's a giant roadblock and I can't go around. And going through, dismantling it means facing it all again. Staring down all the fear, pain, and violation. I barely survived it the first time around. God, I don't think I could do that again."  
  
"Would it help," he said, "If I admitted how afraid I am?" He looked intently into her eyes. "Afraid for you, for us. I never thought anything in my life could feel 'right' again, Dom. Everything had been wrong for so long. But you're right, _this_ is right. And that makes me scared. I'm afraid when you're not fighting, Dom. When you're letting them beat you. You never stood by and let me do that to myself. Not until I'd hurt you so badly in the process... I never blamed you."  
  
"I know, Nate." The silence stretched long between them, neither willing to whisper platitudes they both knew were empty. The contact of their bodies served as silent reassurance, giving way to slow, trepidation-filled caresses, careful love-making that was a marred shadow of a union, mind and soul, filled with doubts.  
  
----  
  
A momentary pang of fear constricted his heart as he registered her absence, but abated as quickly as it had come as he placed her presence in the house. He got up, stretching stiff muscles, and pulled on his clothes.  
She was sitting at the kitchen table, legs stretched out across a second chair. She glanced over at him as she heard him come in. "Hey."  
  
He pulled a chair out and sat down across from her. "You doing okay?"  
  
"Yeah, I--" She ran a hand back through her hair. "Sorry about this morning. I had some pretty messed up dreams and I wasn't really... with it, I guess. I didn't mean to frighten you like that," she sighed. "I've been a little stressed about all of this, I guess, and I suppose I'm not shielding or whatever as well as I usually do. You don't need me throwing all this at you."  
  
"I'm not entirely sure it was all on your end," he murmured. "We've both been dealing with a lot lately. It was a quirk, maybe. I remember Jean mentioning something--" He smiled wryly. "I should have paid more attention when she and Xavier were trying to pound lessons into my skull, I guess."  
  
"It's never happened before."  
  
"The link is stronger, and you're right, your shields are normally tighter. I could try to do something about it, lock things down tighter on my end..."  
  
"No." She reached over and laid her hand on top of his own. "You're probably going to laugh now, but I missed it after I left. Guess I'd never realized how much I appreciated having you there, being able to feel you and know I wasn't alone. We're both so crappy at talking about how we feel. It's... reassuring."  
  
"Not going to laugh. I never really knew _how_ you felt, to be honest. At first, I thought you'd be angry at me."  
  
"Angry?" She quirked an eyebrow. "Well, okay, I guess I can see that, but honestly, Nathan? I was flattered that you trusted me that much. You've always had your own privacy issues, and after Aliya... I know this isn't the same, but it's close. To know you cared that much meant the world to me. Besides," she grinned, "it certainly has its perks."  
  
"I should have known you'd bring that up."  
  
"Hey, I let you be a lecherous bastard on occasion, let me have my moment."  
  
----  
  
"I can't believe we're doing this."  
  
"Moving was your idea, remember?"  
  
"Oh, sure, throw _that_ in my face," she retorted. "I swear, if the universe catches wind of this, it'll be forced to implode. Your family is cosmically forbidden to do _anything_ normally."  
  
"I think the universe owes me one," he replied, surveying the array of paint strips in the rack before them. "What do you think?"  
  
"I'd say it owes you the damned Publisher's Clearinghouse sweepstakes at this point."  
  
"I meant the paint, actually."  
  
"Oh. Um..." She eyed the display for a moment and pulled a strip from one of the slots. "What about that?"  
  
"You're not painting the bedroom purple."  
  
"Oh, and what would _you_ paint it? Battleship grey?"  
  
"You don't paint whole rooms purple."  
  
"You're expecting me to trust the design sense of a man who thinks concrete bunkers make for good living conditions?" She dropped the sample back in the rack. "Okay, so not purple."  
  
"Blue?"  
  
She rolled her eyes. "You are so damned predictable."  
  
"_I'm_ predictable?"   
"Yes," she replied. "What about this? It's blue..."  
  
"Slate?"  
  
"Well, we certainly can't paint the room Navy, Nate. And I'll be Apocalypse's love slave before I allow pastels on my walls."  
  
"*Thank* you for that image."  
  
"Aw, did I traumatize you?" She smirked. "Good. Well?"  
  
"It's okay..."  
  
"Worth a shot? It's only paint, after all. And if we can't even decide on something as simple as wall color, we're never going to get the place fixed up."  
  
"How _did_ we end up like this?" He asked.  
  
"Excessive head trauma?"  
  
"Dom.."  
  
"Kidding, Nate."   
  
----  
  
"Well," Domino commented, wiping at her forehead with the back of her hand. "Not bad, I'd say." She surveyed the room. "For one day, at least." They'd cleared and prepped the room, and gotten the walls scrubbed down and primed. "Take a break for dinner, you think? We could probably still get the first coat of paint on yet tonight."  
  
"I'm done here," he replied, climbing down off the stepladder he was using to reach the ceiling. "This place _would_ have to have 9' ceilings."  
  
"Well, I'm lucky to have you around then, aren't I?" She started rinsing off her brush and roller. "I do believe we're getting the hang of this crap."  
  
"Frightened yet?"  
  
"Hell yeah," she grinned.  
  
  



	3. A Whisper Away 3/4

A Whisper Away 3/4 A Whisper Away  
by Timesprite   
  
"This is _almost_ as good as the stuff from the place in San Fran. Almost."  
  
"Hrm. I guess we'll have to start checking out the local restaurants now," he replied. "Unless you intend to take up cooking."  
  
"Me? Who the hell do I look like, Betty Crocker?" She took a bite of her egg roll. "You're better at shit like that anyway."  
  
"Not by much."  
  
"Hey, the stuff you make is edible. And it usually tastes like it's supposed to. If you leave the cooking to me, we're having microwave dinners every night, I swear." She reached across the table to swipe some of the sesame chicken off his plate.   
  
"I suppose there's a reason your slot on kitchen detail was designated 'pizza night,'" He moved his plate out of range of her fork. "That's mine. You've got your own."  
  
"But I don't _want_ mine," she replied with a mock-pout. "It's much more satisfying to steal your food instead."  
  
"You're perverse, you realize that?"  
  
"Always," she grinned. "Why else would I do it?"  
  
----  
  
"What do you think?"  
  
"It's a good color," he said, surveying their work. "You were right."  
  
"Of course I was," she replied. "I'm always right. You'd think you'd have caught onto that by _now_."  
  
"Are you _ever_ serious?"  
  
"Not if I can help it. Besides, you do that more than enough for the both of us," she said, giving him a lopsided smile. "Is everything okay? You've been kind of... quiet. It's not like you to put up with so much ribbing from me without _some_ sort of come back."  
  
"No..." he replied slowly, then shook his head. "A little preoccupied, I guess. Weird dreams this morning, like you said. I've been trying to sort it out."  
  
"And...?"  
  
He slid an arm around her waist. "Not sure. It was probably a one-time thing. Like you said, we've been stressed... are you...?"  
  
"Okay?" She smiled wryly. "I'm dealing with it." She leaned her head against his shoulder. "I won't lie to you, I'm not really feeling *fantastic,* but it's better when I'm occupied. And my arms ache from all this damned painting," she replied in a lighter tone. "But I'm sure that's just because I'm getting old and decrepit."  
  
"You? Never," he chuckled.  
  
"Did you *ever* think we'd manage to last this long?"  
  
"Truthfully? Not in a million years. But I'm glad we did."  
  
"Yeah, me too," she replied, and stifled a yawn. "See? Getting old. Suppose we should get cleaned up." She pulled away from him and started gathering up tools.   
  
"Want me to make coffee?"  
  
"If you want... though I think I'm probably just going to crash, myself. Long day."  
  
"Then I guess I'll go make sure you have someplace *to* sleep. Unless you like sleeping on the hardwood floor."  
  
"I don't know about you," she smirked, "but I think I've done enough 'roughing it' for this lifetime."  
  
"And my back thanks you for that."  
  
"Aw, you poor old thing. I'll have to remember to be more... gentle with you from now on."  
  
"You never quit, do you?"  
  
"Nope, and that's the way you like it."   
  
----  
  
Domino had fallen asleep the instant she'd curled up next to him on the mattress, and though he himself had lain awake for a while longer to watch her, all had remained quiet on her end of the link, which echoed a cool, soothing calm he hadn't felt from her in months. He'd slept soundly himself, without a single dream he could recall, and didn't wake until long after the sun had started to seep through the east-facing kitchen windows.   
Now he was watching her face as she slept, seeing the tiny lines of age she pretended didn't bother her, and noting despite them how much she hadn't changed in all the years they'd been together. There were new scars, far too many for his peace of mind, new lines, but she was still Domino, and even if they had a million more mornings like this, he didn't think they'd ever be enough. She stirred, stretching languidly and opened her eyes.  
  
"Hey."  
  
"Morning. Sleep well?" She nodded. "Good."  
  
"Hmm," she smiled warmly at him. "Can we just do this forever?" She curled up closer, pulling the blanket around her shoulders.  
  
"I think we'll have to get up eventually," he replied. "As nice as the idea sounds."  
  
She laughed, pressing a kiss just below his collarbone. He felt her smile against his skin. "Not _this_ necessarily," she said, looking up to meet his eyes. Her gaze was clear for once, her demons, while not vanquished, were sleeping. "Just.... this. Living without the fear." She laid her head back against his chest. "Don't get me wrong, I like a good fight as much as the next action junkie, but I could really get to enjoying this sort of peace."  
  
----  
  
"Nate, _what_ are you doing?"  
  
"They're watching."  
  
"What?"  
  
"They're out there. I just know it."  
  
"Who's 'they,' Nathan?" She gave him a worried glance and pondered going for her gun.  
  
"_Them._" He pointed over at the fence bordering the back yard.  
  
"The fence? Are you feeling okay?" She reached forward to put a hand on his forehead. She'd noticed he had a nasty habit of hallucinating rather spectacularly when he was ill. Maybe it was a telepath thing.  
  
"No, _them!_" He ducked away from her hand and pointed again. This time she spotted two sets of curious eyes peeking from above the fence.  
  
"Nate, they're kids."  
  
"But they're just _watching._"  
  
"Kids do things like that. They're probably curious. This place has been empty for a while, remember?" She looked back at him as the children ducked behind the fence again. "What are you doing?"  
  
"What does it look like?"  
  
"It looks like you're filling up water balloons."  
  
"Observant as ever."  
  
"Where did you get water balloons?"  
  
"Dollar store."  
  
"You went to the dollar store?"  
  
"Supreme duress."  
  
"Great. _You_ get to talk to the rabid parents. I have _nothing_ to do with this..."  
  
"We'll see who's smug after this..."  
  
"Lord, help me. I'm living with a giant ten-year-old..."  
  
----  
  
"But I _beat_ Apocalypse!"  
  
"I know, dear," Domino replied, trying hard not to laugh as she handed Nathan a towel. He was sitting on the front steps, utterly drenched, a profoundly wretched look on his face.  
  
"I saved the whole flonqing world!"  
  
"I know. It's really okay..." She snickered and sat down next to him.  
  
"But they're _twelve_!" He said morosely. "And _how_ did they get a bucket full of water balloons anyway?"  
  
"..."  
  
"Dom..."  
  
"...luck?" She replied sheepishly.  
  
"You were with them weren't you?"  
  
"... No."  
  
"Are you lying?"  
  
"... No."  
  
"Were you lying then?"  
  
"... Yes."  
  
"You helped them beat me?"  
  
"_Someone_ needed to take you down a notch," she replied. "You always managed to beat X-Force at this game. I decided someone needed to put you in your place."  
  
"But did you have to give them cookies afterward?"  
  
"Well, nailing you with balloons is hard work..."  
  
"You didn't give _me_ any cookies," he pouted.  
  
"That's because you already have the hyperactive constitution of a three-year-old. You don't _need_ sugar."  
  
"And they do?"   
  
"Consider it my contribution to the corruption of minors. C'mon, you big baby. I'll make you a pot of coffee."  
  
----  
  
"Nate, have you seen the folder with all the manuals for the appliances and shit went? I can't find it."  
  
"I think I moved it in with the communications stuff. Want me to look?"  
  
"No, I'm sure I can find it--"  
  
"Dom?"  
  
"Nathan... what the hell is this?"  
  
He cursed under his breath and walked back to the spare bedroom. "Dom..."  
  
She was standing by the filling cabinet, flipping through a stack of papers. "What the fuck is this? Checking up on me?"  
  
"Well, you certainly weren't being very forthcoming, were you? I wanted to _help_ you Dom, and how the hell was I supposed to do that when you wouldn't tell me what was going on?" He sighed. "You shouldn't have run that mission."  
  
She dropped the pages back into the cabinet and slammed the drawer shut, glaring at him. "How was it _any_ of your damned business? I did what I had to Nate. There wasn't a choice. How the hell could I have walked away from that?"  
  
"You could have found someone else to help Wisdom. Damnit, you could have called _me!_ Or G.W. It could have been taken _care_ of, without you putting yourself in that kind of position. Oath, whatever possessed you to go and do a thing like that?"  
  
"It was _none_ of your business, Nathan. None. I thought you trusted me. I thought you respected my privacy. And instead you go behind my back?"  
  
"What was I supposed to do, exactly? Wait around and watch this tear you to pieces? Turn my head the other way as you slowly fell apart?" He put his hands on her shoulders. "I care too much to do that. Did you want me to not care?"  
  
"I wanted you to leave well enough alone. I handled it just fine. Wisdom and I shut those bastards down for good. They'll never be able to make anyone else suffer like I did as a kid, okay? It was worth it, for that, if nothing else. The things I chose to do are _my_ decisions to make, damnit. And I don't appreciate you keeping tabs on that. It had nothing to do with you." She jerked out of his grasp. "You should have left it the fuck alone."  
  
"Where are you going?" He followed her out into the kitchen.  
  
"Out," she snapped, and grabbed the Harley's keys off the table.  
  
"Don't--"  
  
"Just... shut up, okay Nate? You've done quite enough for one day." She strode out the kitchen door, screen slamming shut behind her.  
  
----  
  
She didn't return until well after nightfall, storming into the house and slamming her keys down on the table before continuing on her way toward the back of the house. He could hear her yelling at someone over the phone--probably G.W. he thought with a wince--a few minutes later. More doors slammed, then everything went quiet.  
After a half an hour, he got up and headed towards the bedroom. The link was humming darkly on Dom's end, though not quite as hostile as it had been earlier. The bedroom itself was empty, the door to the bathroom closed. He knocked twice without reply.   
  
"Dom, are you okay?"  
  
"I'm fine."  
  
"Are you going to come out?"  
  
"No."  
  
He sighed. "All right. I'm going to go sleep on the couch then. I'll see you in the morning." There was the sound of splashing water and he paused, then the lock clicked and the door opened a crack.   
  
"You don't have to do that."  
  
He sighed and leaned against the wall. "You were right. I had no business doing what I did. I need to trust you."  
  
She opened the door the rest of the way and walked over to the dresser, pulling out a tank top and a pair of shorts. "I don't want to argue about it tonight, okay?" She replied tiredly. "Let's just go to bed."  
  
----  
  
_The field in which he stood was damp, covered in dead, yellowed grass, beaten flat by winter. A river ran swiftly at the edge of a long slope, a brackish color in the waning light as storm clouds gathered ominously overhead. He found himself scanning the periphery, waiting for her to appear. "You don't belong here, I told you that."   
  
She emerged from the tree line, slipping into view with a liquid grace. He winced, taking in her appearance. Her uniform was in shreds, the skin beneath abraded, bleeding. Her face bore bruises and cuts, eyes hollow as her voice. A gun flashed dangerously in her hand. "Back off, Nate. This is none of your business."  
  
"Normally, I might agree. But it's becoming apparent that you're not in the best control here, Dom."  
  
"Well, excuse me! Some of us haven't had grand epiphanies, Summers. Some of us are still dealing with the same old shit without the benefit of your life-altering revelations. It's all well and good for you to tell me I should be all Zen about this shit--excuse me, Askani. What is being what is and all, but you're forgetting a major detail. You aren't me."  
  
"And I should watch you suffer instead? I can't sit on the other side of the glass and watch you destroy yourself Dom. Don't ask me to do that. I can't--" He took a few steps forward. "Tell me what they did to you, Dom."  
  
"I said back off!" The gun was pointed at him now, unwavering. "I'll deal with it. Just get away from me!" The look in her eyes should have been a warning.  
  
"Damnit, Dom. Don't do this. I know you don't want me to leave you--" He reached forward.  
  
The force of the shot spun him half around and he staggered to keep his footing. Blood was pouring from the wound in his right shoulder before the pain could even register through the shock. The echo of the gunshot was still reverberating in the distance as the last light slipped from the skies.  
  
"I told you to let me go."   
  
The last sight he saw as the world went black was her wide frightened eyes.  
_  
----  
  
He was sitting upright before his eyes even opened, breathing heavily. His shoulder was throbbing painfully, skin covered in a cold sweat. He took a few slow breaths to try and calm the rapid thumping of his heart. beside him, Domino stirred, sitting up and looking at him sleepily. "Nathan? Hey," she touched his shoulder lightly and he flinched involuntarily, causing her to pull away slightly. "Are you okay?"  
  
"I--" He ran a hand over his face forcing images to the back of his mind, then looked over at her. She was frowning slightly, eyes concerned.   
  
"Nightmare?"  
  
"Yeah," he replied slowly. "Must have been."  
  
"Guess I'm not the only one," she replied wryly and reached over and brushed the hair from his eyes. He started slightly, and she sighed. "Must have been a bad one, huh?"   
  
"Don't really remember," he lied.  
  
She nodded. "Okay. Why don't we lay down again, all right?" She wrapped her arms around him as best she could and lowered them down to the bed again.  
  
"Dom?"  
  
"Yeah, Nate?"  
  
"You... want me here, right?"  
  
"Of course I do," she replied. "Is something the matter? Nate?"  
  
"No," he replied. "I'm okay."  
  



	4. A Whisper Away 4/4

A Whisper Away 4/4 A Whisper Away  
by Timesprite   
  
She would have laughed if she knew how often he watched her sleep, he thought wryly. He couldn't help it; truthfully, there was something captivating about catching her when she wasn't in constant motion. Memories drifted past in a long chain-- times he'd watched her with amusement or trepidation, out of fear, just to satisfy himself that she was still there, breathing, that they were both still alive. Watched her with a pang of guilt and regret as he slipped out the door long before the sun rose.   
He watched her now with a strange sense of peace, smiled to himself at the sight of her curled under the comforter, buried in the pillows. Their bed, their house, their life together. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. It would be okay. It had to be, it was all he had left.  
  
He stripped off his shirt and winced, catching sight of the bruise that had spread across his right shoulder in the bathroom mirror. With a sigh, he started up the shower, and an ugly sense of dread slinked beneath the morning's calm.   
  
Dom was awake when he walked back into the bedroom, rubbing her eyes blearily. "Nate, what happened to your shoulder?"  
  
"Must have done something to it yesterday," he shrugged, not meeting her eyes. "It looks worse than it feels."  
  
"Should be more careful," she replied, climbing out of bed and walking past him to the bathroom. "Neither of us is as young as we used to be."  
  
----  
  
"So what's on the agenda today?"  
  
Cable looked over the edge of the newspaper at her. "Your toast is burning," he pointed out, taking a sip of his coffee.  
  
"Goddamnit," she reached over and popped the lever up on the toaster, swearing in disgust as she dropped the charcoaled bread into the garbage. "I swear that thing is broken."  
  
"Worked fine for me."  
  
"Well, fine. So it doesn't heat consistently," she snapped, pouring herself a cup of coffee and sitting down across from him. "So what do we need to do today?"  
  
"I was going to run to the hardware store to get supplies and fix that corner of the garage roof. So unless you want to help with shingling..."  
  
"I think I'll pass," she replied dryly. "I'd fry in two seconds flat. I guess I can finish taking care of those boxes in the den. Are you sure your shoulder is up to that?"  
  
"I told you it was fine," he grated. "Do you have to keep nagging me?"  
  
"Well, excuse me for caring," she retorted. "I'll just leave you and your foul mood to go about your business then." She grabbed up her mug and left the kitchen.  
  
----  
  
At noon he headed back into the house to take a break, despite the fairly mild temperatures, working up on the garage was hot work. It'd also given him a lot of time to think.   
He'd regretted his hostility that morning the instant she'd left the room, realizing it wasn't her fault, exactly, that he was upset. But there wasn't any good way to explain what had happened. Part of her had wanted him gone badly enough to shoot him, there was no mistaking that. The fact that he was sure it wasn't out of malice--she was obviously just frightened of _something,_ wasn't likely to make the news any easier to swallow. Pausing to grab a beer from the fridge, he headed down the hall to find her.  
She was perched on the arm of the sofa, in the midst of unpacking several boxes, it appeared, flipping through a book. She set it down on the end table when he walked in.   
  
"Hey," she said quietly. "Done already?"  
  
"Almost. Taking a break." She nodded and started putting books onto the bookshelf. He could feel the tension in the air that had been there since the morning, muffling everything, making the atmosphere heavy and hard to work through. "Dom, we need to talk."  
  
"So talk," she said, eyes flashing with an emotion he couldn't place as she glanced at him, still shelving books.  
  
"I lied--last night, when I said I didn't remember what woke me. I lied." She turned to face him, balancing on the arm of the sofa again, arms crossed, but said nothing. "When I called you at Muir? I lied then, too. This... _thing_ that's happening, with the link, between us, has been happening for awhile. I didn't recognize it until the other night... I tried exploring the link but I'm not sure what's going on."  
  
"And you didn't think it was important enough to tell me?" She'd meant the words to be harsh, but her voice came out weary instead, even to her own ears.  
  
"I thought I could deal with it. I thought it wasn't a big deal and you..." Something in his posture and expression shifted and she could see all the pent up worry in him hovering just below the surface. "I'll admit it. I was trying to protect you, Dom. I..."   
  
She sighed and nodded slowly. "I get the feeling this isn't what you really needed to talk about."  
  
"There is no good way for me to say this. Sometimes, when they're strong enough, events that are... telepathic in origin can have actual physical manifestations--"  
  
"Nathan..." She stood and took a few steps forward.  
  
"I didn't injure my shoulder yesterday, Dom. It happened last night--"  
  
"Nate--"  
  
"It happened when you shot me."   
  
She hit the floor hard, as if the blow had been a physical one, looking up at him with an expression so pained it hurt him to look at her. "Oh, God. Nathan... God."   
  
He kneeled down next to her and put a hand on her shoulder. "It was mostly my fault, Dom. Even my subconscious doesn't know when to stop prying."  
  
She sighed softly and closed her eyes. "I thought I could take it... the job with Wisdom. I thought... It was a challenge, to myself. To prove I was still good after all these years. To prove that Madripoor didn't matter, that I wasn't--" She took a deep breath. "That I wasn't still that scared kid, that nameless little girl who fought because she had to, who got good at it because she didn't want to die. It was a way of proving they didn't own me still, Nate. That I was a real person. But then I was there, and I realized I'd simply never dealt with that part of my life.  
"There were far too many of us, Nathan. There in the dark, victims of things our parents had done, or of simple circumstance. Brainwashed children who knew no love... maybe I was luckier than the rest," she grimaced. "I didn't know any better. For me, there'd literally been nothing else. Home? Family? I couldn't remember those things. I had only the vaguest of recollections. My 'life' began in those damned pits. It could have easily ended there, I'd never have known."   
Her arms were wrapped tightly around drawn up knees, her chin resting atop them. Hair fell across her face as she stared at him with eyes that were not her own. They belonged to the girl inside her that'd been lost forever to violence and betrayal. "Sometimes I wake up in the dark and think I'm still there," she said softly. "But you're here, and that's okay."   
  
He reached out and stroked the hair back from her eyes gently. He could feel her shaking, almost imperceptibly beneath his touch. "It's okay, Dom. I know what it's like to be afraid." He wanted to gather her up and hold her, be the protection she hadn't had then, but all the wishing wouldn't fix the wounds she carried. They'd spent so many years holding each other together and he knew what she needed was space. She didn't want him to see her cry.  
  
----  
  
He finished the work on the roof and cleaned up before heading back inside. The bedroom door was shut, so he went into the den and finished unpacking the last of the boxes. When there was nothing left to do--nothing to unpack, nothing to be put away or straighten up, he sank onto the couch in the den and watched as the sky faded from blue to pink to indigo, and the stars appeared one by one. Then he got up and walked into the bedroom.  
  
Domino was curled up on the bed, back towards him. He sat down next to her, indecisive. "You hungry?" He asked finally. "I can go get something for you."  
  
"Not really," came her muffled reply.  
  
"Okay," he sighed. "I'll be around if you need anything, alright?" She nodded and he got up, closing the door quietly behind him.  
  
----  
  
_Dark halls, dirty halls. Lights flickered dimly overhead, garbage littered the concrete floor. Doors punctuated the dull grey walls at even intervals, some of the small windows dark, some lit. Voices echoed, yelling, sobbing, whispering. He didn't look around, he didn't need to. Somehow, he knew where he was going, which door was the right one.  
  
His hand stopped on the knob, and he stared down at it for a long moment, unsure if he wanted to see what was on the other side. Turn, click, the door swung inward.  
  
"Who's there!?" A child's voice, scared, shaking, and yet so full of hate. He willed himself to look up, to open his eyes. He willed himself to look at her.  
  
Short-cropped hair fell in the eyes of his partner, all of fourteen, perhaps, backed up against the concrete wall. The gun she trained on him, arms outstretched, shook visibly, barrel veering off target and back again wildly. "Get the fuck away from me! I mean it!"   
  
He couldn't move. He stood there, eyes riveted to the sight of her, bare feet, bare legs, bruised skin, and half crazed-eyes fixed steadily on him, the wavering, merciless gun in her white-knuckled hands as she tried desperately to melt into the wall. He wanted to run, wanted to close his eyes, dash out that door and be sick, fall to his knees and let himself shake, let go of the tremor that he was holding in by force of will.   
  
He willed himself to move, forcing his feet to go forward until he could rip the gun from her shaking hands and gather her up, ignoring her screams, folding her tight against his chest until the fight went out of her and he carried her back out that door, down the cold, empty halls and into the light.  
_  
----  
  
"Nathan?"   
  
He sat up, closing the book that'd come rest on his chest when he nodded off. Domino was standing in the hall doorway, hand resting against the frame, bleach-white against the dark wood.   
  
"You coming to bed?"  
  
"You were asleep. Didn't want to disturb you. Thought I'd just read here for awhile."  
  
"Oh, by all means, disturb me."  
  
"Another nightmare?"  
  
"The stuff Moira gave me knocks me out, but I always feel like shit in the morning."  
  
"Didn't answer my question."  
  
She sighed and leaned against the doorway, crossing her arms. "Not sure. It was jumbled, chaotic. I woke up and you weren't there."  
  
"I know," he sighed, "Would you like me to clarify it for you?"  
  
"What, the--it happened again?"  
  
"Yeah, it happened again." The images tumbled down the psilink with crystal clarity. "Do you maybe want to talk about that, or should I stay in the dark about this a little longer? Because I don't think I can deal with being a passive spectator to this anymore," he grated.  
  
He watched as her expression darkened, mouth twisting down in a frown. She took several paces into the room, stopping a few feet in front of where he sat, arms crossed. "And what is it I'm supposed to say to you, exactly?" She snapped. "What is it that you need to hear? That at twelve, I had already killed and the blood on my hands then might as well have been my own? That at thirteen, I lived in fear of the dark, because that's when they always came? That other men turned their heads and let them rape me, so long as they didn't hurt me too badly? That I cursed my luck every time it saved my life, because instead of _dying,_ instead of _escaping,_ I was cursed to _live_?"   
Her eyes were flat and emotionless. "That the scar on my shoulder that you just can't get over is from where I was branded like a fucking piece of livestock? And that afterwards, the sight of it made me so ill--that I did _that_ to myself rather than stare at those numbers they'd burned into me. Is that the sort of confession you wanted?"  
  
"Yes," he said quietly after a moment of silence. "That's exactly what I wanted from you, Dom. Because it means you have to admit it to yourself. We both know it never gets any better if you sit around denying it ever happened at all." He stood and walked over to her. "We both know we can't play these mind games with ourselves--or each other anymore. Deal with the past instead of running away from it."  
  
"It was a secret shame, I think," she said, anger beginning to fade, replaced instead by exhaustion. "God forbid I own up to the fact that I'd been bought and sold and treated like meat. God forbid I admit I let them use me like a two-bit whore because I knew somehow, someday, I'd be stronger than them." She stared down at her feet. "What the men Wisdom and I--" She swallowed hard. "The brand was almost secondary," she said finally. "Just a physical manifestation of what was already in my head. Part of me forgot all the years in-between, Nathan. Do you know how that is? The situations overlapped and I got caught in the old mindset. Go numb. Fight when you have to. Never, _ever_ think about it. Just react. I stopped living all over again. Ever since then, it's been cloudy. I can't find the clarity I had before."  
She took a deep, shuttering breath and reached up to touch the hand he'd placed on her shoulder. "There's a mystery here," she said, tapping the side of her head with a finger. "One I can't figure out. But it's tied together somehow. The psionic damage I don't remember getting--I lied when I told you I couldn't recall a thing from that dream. Partially, anyway. There's a different dream, I had it when I was undercover. I remember a room, a dark haired woman, and a hell of a lot of pain."  
  
"We'll work through this, Dom," he said, squeezing her hand. "We knew going into this things weren't going to be simple. They never are. But we'll make it. We'll get this stuff with the link cleared up and get you through everything you're trying to deal with.  
  
"Yes. I'm sure you've started to sort this out, right? That these aren't just _my_ nightmares? This is our fear, Nathan. Both of us together. My shattered memories and your desperate need to know."   
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
"You don't believe in sorry," she said sadly. "You can pretend to want to know; you can say you want to share even this horror with me, but it's not true. Not any more so than saying you'd want me to watch as Aliya died." Her smile was a faded one. "There are parts of me you'll never touch, Nathan. These parts that are dead or dying. It's time to let them go."  
  
"Dom, don't say that."  
  
"Don't you see?" She sighed, pulling away from him. "We can't drown in each other like this. We can't be all we might wish. There are parts of you and parts of me that litter this damned graveyard, and it's time we respected those graves instead of exhuming the remains." She sank heavily to the floor, as if her bones had collapsed.   
"It's the quiet spaces that kill me," she said softly. "The empty moments when I'm caught unaware." The room felt wrapped in a soft blanket of sadness, an ache that filled the air itself.   
  
The strength in his own limbs left him, and his knees hit the floor at the same instant she fell towards him, falling into him, it seemed, so that he could feel her break. Not as she had at Christmas, in a jagged tapestry of pain, but subtly, a cry muffled by the fabric of his shirt as she cried, unashamed and without pride, stripped naked by the years that would not let go. She was shaking and he was shaking, the thousand deaths that made their lives rose and fell, more quiet now, in an ocean that was them, and them alone.  
  
----  
  
Domino was asleep--buried in the pillows and bedding, looking vulnerable in a way that made something in him ache--though entirely with pain. She'd been that way for hours now, long after he'd woken and grown restless. She deserved the peace, he decided, and turned back to the window. Outside, sunlight was making a valiant effort to break through clouds that had rolled in during the night, turning the morning to a grey twilight.  
  
Something had broken here, he could feel it like a weight that had slinked away sullenly, leaving bruises in its wake. There was a shift he could sense but couldn't quite grasp, a change... but not a solution. He took a deep breath and held it for a long moment, releasing it slowly. They'd been running. He realized that now with an understanding so keen it seemed impossible he could have missed it before. They'd made a mistake, tried to remove themselves from everything; isolated themselves in a stubborn, misguided attempt at normalcy that had been doomed to fail from the start. It wasn't as simple as walking away, leaving behind X-Force and a lifestyle that was all either of them had ever known. It wasn't a cancer that could be cut away and discarded. It was a warning.   
  
They'd made it over the hill, so to speak, they'd survived this trial--though only time would tell how well the wounds would heal. There were darker mountains lurking somewhere ahead, veiled but still menacing. This wasn't over, and something inside him worried that it was only the beginning.  
  
End  
  



End file.
